Page 127 of Cruel Deception
A silent vow, stitched between old scars and trembling hope.
His forehead pressed to mine, and we stayed like that—breathing each other, hearts still raging but no longer at war.
Together, finally, in the wreckage of who we were.
Cassian groaned—low, guttural, broken in a way that made my skin catch fire. His fingers threaded through my hair,the same hands that once shackled me now cradling me like something precious.
Like something worth keeping.
He kissed me deeper. Slower. Hungrier. Not punishing—but aching. Like he needed to memorize every inch of me just to survive.
Like he’d starved for a kind of hunger that had nothing to do with power.
My hands slid over his chest—scarred, unforgiving—and I felt his heartbeat stutter beneath my palm. Fast. Erratic.
Human.
I kissed down his jaw. He shivered.
“Charlotte,” he rasped—my name rough, reverent. “Tell me to stop.”
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t scared of him.
I was scared of how much I wanted him—this version of him.
The boy behind the monster.
The man behind the chains.
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the worn leather couch in the corner of the study.
It wasn’t romantic.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was necessary.
Now.
My legs wrapped around his waist. My dress bunched at my thighs. His mouth scorched a path down my throat, and when his teeth grazed my skin—I gasped.
Not because he made me.
But because I liked it.
I wanted to be ruined by someone who had already been ruined, too.
“I hate that you know,” he murmured against my collarbone.
“I needed to see. I needed to know you.” I whispered, pulling his face back to mine
His mouth claimed mine again—harder, deeper, a storm I didn’t want to escape. His hands roamed, not to dominate, but to discover. To ask permission with every trembling touch.
And I gave it.
